


Deep Pressure Therapy

by Khadgarfield



Series: Hic Svnt Leones [2]
Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Corset References, M/M, Oral Sex, Rope Bondage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:47:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27624935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khadgarfield/pseuds/Khadgarfield
Summary: Flynn is always **roping** him into these weird ideas of his.(HAHAHAHA!! geddit?)
Relationships: Flynn Fairwind/Mathias Shaw
Series: Hic Svnt Leones [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1975195
Comments: 14
Kudos: 73





	Deep Pressure Therapy

**Author's Note:**

> today in kink roulette we got some straight up nonsense scooped fresh from my brain. incidentally, this fic is unlucky 13 posted on this account. fascinating.
> 
> love u all  
> Your friend Garf.

“Pull harder.”

Mathias Shaw stood erect in the middle of kitchen, his shoulders pushed back, his chest lifted, and his expression unwavering even as Flynn winced uncomfortably.

“Do you even _breathe,_ Mat?”

“Just. Tighter for me please.”

Flynn sighed reluctantly, and yanked on the ties of Mathias’ uniform. He crossed his hands between them, and flicked one end of the cord under the other with dexterous fingers.

“Why do you always make me do this?” He asked. “You’ve done it yourself for how many years?”

“You can tie it tighter than I can.”

Mathias watched him finish the knot with a tidy bow. Years of sailing had given Flynn deft hands and strong arms – it seemed like a shame to waste these assets, particularly when they were so well suited to tending one of Mathias’ favourite parts of his job.

“You don’t even care I crack one of your ribs one day by accident?”

“I’d like to see you try.”

Flynn, who had been sitting in the kitchen nursing a hot cup of tea and munching his way through a stale breakfast bagel before Mathias had requested aid, heaved another sigh and dropped back down into the seat he had been occupying at the table.

“It looks good on you love, I’m not denying that, but surely there are more practical things for someone your age to be wearing for 14 hours of every day of your life?”

“My age?” Mathias frowned, reaching across Flynn and pinching half of his bagel from the edge of his plate. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You got dusty bones, love. What do you think?”

Mathias made an indignant noise, knocking the back of his hand against Flynn’s shoulder and making him laugh, but he didn’t really mind the jab at all. If it meant the current of the conversation was moving away from the awkward questions about his uniform, and why it was that he liked to be bound so tight that he did, in fact, struggle to breathe sometimes, he would endure all the good-natured teasing Flynn had to offer and then some.

Mathias didn’t like being interrogated on his outfit.

At first, the corseted leather curiass had seemed like a practical thing. It made him stand straight, even during the longest and most tedious council meetings, and it made it easier for him to slip through the narrow gaps and crevasses he needed to when he was working in the field. It helped his back pain, from sitting at the desk for hours a day, and it ensured he didn’t gorge himself too much on cheese at state dinners, but it wasn’t until the day he realised that he no longer enjoyed the freedom of wearing civilian clothing, that he concluded that what he _really_ enjoyed about the outfit above all else was the constant reassuring feeling of being squished.

Weird but true. Kind of unseemly in a way he couldn’t exactly quantify.

He had never told anyone about it. Who would he tell?

Besides, Mathias had noticed a marked difference in his focus and emotional state when he was, and was not in his uniform. The equipment made him think clearer – it made him calm when he needed to be calm, and kept him still even in the most nerve-wracking of situations. When he wasn’t wearing it, Mathias was mortified by how clumsy he could be. Not half as clumsy as Flynn was, naturally, but clumsy enough to bump into things sometimes, or fumble an object when he was in a store. Once he had dropped a bottle of milk all over the kitchen, and Flynn had stared at him as though he was a complete stranger.

“Watch yourself,” Mathias told his beloved, taking a bite out of his bagel and dropping it back down where he had pinched it from. “I may have dusty bones, but I could best you with my hands tied behind my back.”

“Someone is sure of themselves.” Flynn grinned and tipped his face up, inviting Mathias to brush a short kiss against his lips. Admittedly, bending over could be difficult in the corset, and Mathias struggled enough to lean over him that he broke a light sweat across his shoulders, but he managed as he always did without complaint. As ever, he proceeded to make his way downstairs and out of the apartment, towards SI:7 Headquarters.

This was a nice morning ritual, he thought, regular like clockwork, and soon it became another permanent installation in the routine of his days. After a while, Flynn stopped complaining so much, binding Mathias in his uniform in dutiful silence in the same way he made him coffee when he got home each night. Only once or twice did he hesitate, as though he was worried he would do him harm, and Mathias waited with bated breath to see if he would say something again.

He didn’t.

And then one day, one of the few days of the month Mathias made it a point to take off work, he broached Flynn wearing his curiass anyway, and gestured that he expected him to help tie it.

“It’s your day off?” Flynn frowned at him, halfway through brushing his teeth. His hair was loose on his shoulders, the sunlight shining through the bathroom window hit the small mirror on the wall, reflecting a circle of light on his face. What a vision. Mathias was so, so lucky to have him.

“I know,” Mathias told him simply, conscious that in some way he didn’t recognise he was rendering himself vulnerable. He wondered if Flynn could see the blush on his cheeks. “I’ll wear it under my civilian clothes. It feels strange to leave the house without it.”

“… Alright.”

Flynn's expression pulled in puzzlement, but he indulged him. Mathias spent the day barely even cognizant of the reassuring cinch beneath his coat.

It was later that night that Flynn said anything about it again.

“I’m surprised you don’t sleep in that thing.”

“What?” Mathias set his book down on his lap, confused for a second what he was talking about.

“Your corset thing. You take it off to go to bed.”

They were preparing to sleep - Mathias was trying to read and Flynn was tossing and turning, and generally being a disturbance. With summer approaching, he had spent more and more evenings bemoaning the heat and churning the bedclothes. Mathias knew Flynn didn’t like to sleep under down filled quilts and woolen blankets, being more accustomed to the thin, roughly hewn sheets typically found in a sailor's store cupboard. Mathias didn’t know _why –_ the thought of sleeping under something so insubstantial was disquieting, at best, and frankly the thought of actually sleeping in his uniform troubled him less.

“Of course I do. That wouldn’t be very comfortable.”

“Says the man who sleeps under how many blankets?”

“In summer? Four.” Mathias felt a little bit as though Flynn was judging him. “You know, you can just put them on my side if you are that miserable.”

“I’d rather you not overheat in the night.”

“I’d rather overheat than sleep under just a sheet.”

Flynn looked at him incredulously.

“Mat, you know I love you, but I really do think you’re a little bit barmy.”

Mathias took exception at this. He huffed and picked his book back up, marking the page with the pressed sea stalk flowers he kept tucked into the back, and set it down on the bedside table beside the lamp.

“It’s comfortable,” He insisted. “I don’t know how else to explain it.”

“I would have thought you of all people wouldn’t want a hulking great weight on you every night. Seems… claustrophobic?”

“It’s not claustrophobic.” Mathias told him testily. “I just happen to enjoy the feeling of being gently squished.”

“Gently squished?” Flynn’s eyebrows lifted in surprised arches, “Interesting phrasing, love.”

“Well I don’t know how else to describe it! I hate not having the blankets on. Just like I don’t like to leave the house without my uniform.”

Flynn’s eyebrows, if possible, crept even further up his forehead.

“ _Oh,_ ” he said, and Mathias wasn’t even sure what he had to ‘oh’ about.

“Oh what?”

“Oh, nothing. I think I just figured something out.”

Mathias didn’t like that he refused to explain what, but his complaints died in his throat when Flynn pulled him down next to him, and dragged the upper half of his body onto Mathias’s chest. The pressure was comforting. The smell of his hair was sweet and familiar. Mathias fell asleep in a matter of minutes.

The next morning, Flynn tied his curiass tighter than usual.

Mathias, embarrassed to bring it up but nonetheless appreciative, savored the way that the straining leather felt against the soft linen of his undershirt. When he exhaled, it came with a soft sigh of contentment, and Flynn’s eyes darted up to meet his own for a moment, curious and bright.

“Snug?” He asked. Mathias felt a flutter of arousal in his stomach. Flynn’s eyes always made his knees feel a little bit weak – they were such a beautiful seafoam colour, and they reminded him of Boralus harbor in the springtime. Boralus was not a place he ever thought he would feel homesick for, and yet he had to concede that it _was_ the place he met Flynn. That alone made it fairly special.

“Quite.”

“You really don’t mind being tied up like this?” He asked.

“Not at all.”

“It doesn’t remind you of being… captured or anything?”

What an oddly specific kind of question. Mathias was distinctly suspicious, and he almost hesitated to answer him.

“No…” he said slowly, “Why would it?”

“Well, haven’t you been tied up a few times in your life? Chains? Cages?”

“Cages? Yes, I suppose I’ve spent some time in cages.” Mathias stepped away from Flynn, unconsciously defensive as he remembered Suramar, and thankful for the comfort of laces compressing the sides of his waist. “But they actually took my uniform off me. And they never tied me up.”

In truth, the nakedness of those times still haunted him occasionally – the sense of being so light and fragile he might float right out of the vehicle of his body. He had longed for the security of his unform, in those moments. For the safety of the heap of heavy blankets on his bed. He didn’t have Flynn in his life, all those years ago, but if he did he knew it would have been even worse, because he would have been haunted by the fear that he might never have been able to feel Flynn crush him to his chest ever again.

“Okay. That’s good, I was just…” a small furrow appeared on Flynn’s forehead, as he realized he had made Mathias uncomfortable. “I just wanted to check.”

“Well okay,” Mathias told him steadily. “Now you know.”

They didn’t talk about such matters again, but come evening Flynn began to pull him into his arms more often, and when they lay in bed Mathias was growing accustomed to the mass of Flynn’s body half-way overlapping his own. More than once, when they were having sex, Flynn would pause for a spell and still against him, and Mathias would be able to savor the weight of him pressing him into the mattress. He clung to him, in those moments, wishing deep down in the caverns of his chest that he would never ever need to let him go.

…

One day, most unusually, Mathias arrived home from work late and found Flynn was sitting on the floor of the apartment. This in itself wasn’t normal, per se, but the peculiarity of the situation paled in comparison to the fact that while he was sitting there, cross legged like a child in a schoolhouse, he was busying himself by sorting through a heap of fine coiled rope. 

“Good evening, Captain?” Mathias locked the door behind him and began to unfasten the buckles on his shoulder piece. The thing was unwieldy, and not nearly as comfortable as his chest. Every day when he got back to the apartment, he looked forward to taking it off. “What on Azeroth is going on?”

“Hey, Love. I met up with a friend of mine today and bought a few things. What do you think?”

“… It’s rope.” Mathias stated the obvious. “You don’t have enough rope on the _Arva_?”

“This is special rope.” Flynn told him, beckoning him closer and indicating he should also sit down on the floor. Good thing Mathias was well practiced in crouching in this outfit.

“Special rope?”

“Not for industrial use. Here, touch it.” He picked up a rope, neatly twisted into a loop, and plopped it into Mathias’ hands. The rope was softer and thinner than the ropes on the _Arva_ , made of cotton in lieu of sungrass fiber, and rather than being the regular tawny brown colour Mathias was familiar with this rope was the creamy linen tone of their bedsheets. 

“What’s it for then?” he asked.

Flynn’s expression immediately took on a mischievous lilt.

“It’s for you. I’d like to try something with it, if you’ll let me?”

Mathias was more than a little confused. As much as he appreciated Flynn’s gifts, this one seemed a little less purposeful than usual. And the lack of specificity around what ‘something’ might be was somewhat concerning. Flynn could be a little more impulsive than was probably good for either of them, and Mathias knew this better than he did.

“Try what?” He asked.

Flynn inhaled deeply, and plucked the rope out from his hands.

“You trust me?”

Mathias answered honestly, but with a little bit of skepticism.

“I trust you.”

“Ok good.” Flynn pulled himself to his feet and reached a hand down to help Mathias up as well. “I’m gonna need you to take the rest of your clothes off.”

“You’re still not going to tell me what you’re doing?”

“I’m going to try and tie you up. For fun.”

“… Excuse me?”

This was easily the most bizarre request Flynn had ever made.

“I’m going to tie you up,” He repeated. “you get naked, then sit on the bed, and I tie you up. It’s fun! I have a crazy hunch that you might like it.”

Mathias didn’t really know where to start with this statement.

“Why would you think _anyone_ would like that?” He asked. “If I wanted to be tied up like an idiot, I’d go for a wander into Freehold.”

“Lots of people like it, Mat! Love it, even.”

“And how would you know?”

“It’s a whole thing!” He insisted, “Pirates have been doing it for decades. Since before even _you_ were young. I’ve been told I’m very good at it, which comes from knowing my way around a knot, I guess. And so, after some careful deliberation I have come to the conclusion that I would like to share my gift with you.”

“… _What_?”

Mathias was too confused by all of this to know how he should feel about what he was saying. “What do you mean they’ve been doing it for years? _Why_? More importantly, why is this a skill you bothered to cultivate?”

“I had an ex who was _really_ into being suspended from the mizen mast.” He answered matter-of-factly. “but that’s beside the point. What I’m trying to say is that I think that _you_ are an excellent candidate for this. I _promise_ I won’t hurt you”

He failed to elaborate why anyone would want to have this done to them, but Mathias already had his answer. The thought of Flynn tying someone to a mast, mizzen or otherwise, made his stomach knot in jealously. His instincts knew the reason, it seemed, and that reason was… unexpected.

The whole thing was a sex act. Some kind of strange, buccaneer fetish or something. Mathias had never even heard of such a thing, and he had always considered himself a learned person, so to be so unexpectedly confronted with a kink he didn’t already vaguely know about? That was nearly humiliating.

“This is a sexual thing?” Mathias asked him. Flynn shook his head.

“Doesn’t have to be.” He answered. “But also, yes. It can.”

At least, if it was a sex thing, Mathias had a clearer ground for understanding what was going on. He had heard of power fantasies and roleplay brothels, after all – the kind one could find in Stormwind and Ironforge if they knew where to look for them. It was possible that this practice was popular in Kul Tiras, too, and perhaps whimsical narratives about pirates and captives served to titillate there in the way that pantomime barbarians and wizards did so in the East. Was _this_ why Flynn had been so concerned about the captivity issue? Did he harbor some undisclosed subjugation fetish, that he had worried Mathias might scorn?

Mathias felt himself flush, contemplating the potential length and breadth of the fantasies Flynn might want to play out with him in the safety of their home. Admittedly, roleplay wasn’t to his tastes, but he wasn’t completely opposed to it, and it _was_ profoundly important to him that he be able to satisfy Flynn in whatever ways he can. He could try it at least once, surely? And if he didn’t like it, he would just tell Flynn as much. Realistically, if it resulted in him and Flynn having sex, he probably wouldn’t hate it so badly he would never want to do it ever again.

“… Okay fine” he settled on eventually. “If that’s what you _really_ want to do, then fine. But can you let me shower and get something to eat first?”

Flynn said he could, so he did, and twenty minutes later he found himself clean and fed, sitting on the bed in nothing more than his underclothes and a stony expression.

“Obviously you know how to slip a knot, right?” Flynn asked him casually, sitting on the edge of the mattress with a hank of rope in his hand. He too had dressed down for the occasion, wearing simple trousers rolled to his knees, and a second coil of rope hung around his neck for safe keeping. He looked good, but Mathias thought he always looked good – particularly without a shirt on. For a moment, he was so lost in admiring the ripple of Flynn’s muscles in his back, and the winding black lines of the tattoos on his biceps, that he forgot what it was Flynn was about to do to him.

“Slip a knot?”

He thought back to his training, almost three decades ago now, and when his grandmother had taught him to dislocate a shoulder to escape ropes as a child. Fortunately, this was a skill he had never needed – want-to-be gaolers tended to prefer locks and chains - and Mathias hadn’t practiced any intentional dislocation since rising to the post of spymaster himself.

“Undo it when it’s tied on you.”

“I know what it means.” He felt himself flush, and Flynn shot him a crooked grin.

“Well, whatever. I bought this anyway just in case.” He held up a dagger, the one Mathias wore on his belt on a day-to-day basis, and leaned past him to set it down on the bedside table. Mathias noted he also had the jar of oil sitting there waiting, so he wouldn’t have to waste time fumbling around in drawers for the damn thing when the time came. Awfully presumptuous of him, but somewhat flattering. It was nice to be reminded that Flynn wanted to fuck him, either in the usual fashion or tied up like a man-sized Winter’s Veil ham.

“If you want me to stop, say ‘scuttle’.”

“Scuttle?”

“Mhmm.” Flynn sent the rope he was holding down in his lap, and reached to tug his hair out of his hair tie. Mathias watched him brush it out quickly with his fingers, then scoop it back up and twist it into a neat knot at the top of his head. He resecured it there, and Mathias felt his pulse increase in speed – Flynn only ever tied his hair up like that when he was _really_ about to go to town on him. The gesture primed him with arousal before Flynn had so much as laid a hand on his body. Flynn picked up the rope again, unraveled it, and folded the full length in half with practiced ease. He did _look_ like he knew what he was doing…

“Okay got it.” Mathias told him. “Anything else you need to warn me about?”

“Nope. That’s it. I will need you to shuffle further down the bed though. Into the middle of the mattress.”

Mathias followed his instructions, sitting cross legged atop his blankets and waiting patiently to see what would happen next. Flynn crawled behind him, dropped the rope down, and placed his hands atop Mathias’s shoulders.

“I’m going to open your chest to start with,” he said, pulling his shoulders back to flex the muscles across Mathias’ chest. It was surprisingly painful, but not in a sharp or even particularly unpleasant way. It ached deeply in the spot between his shoulder blades, the sweet throb of a shallow bruise, and sure enough it _did_ open his chest. So much so that breathing became effortless - every breath he had ever taken before seemed like hard labor in comparison, which was curious considering Mathias hadn’t even noticed until now that he had been compressed. When Flynn met resistance in his muscles, he paused for a moment, before resuming again at an agonizingly slow pace. Mathias had to close his eyes, sinking deep into the stretch, and a soft sigh of pleasure slipped from his lips like a spirit departing the recently deceased.

“Does that feel okay?” Flynn asked him. Mathias nodded. Flynn’s lips brushed against the side of his neck, gliding up to the spot at the back of his ear.

“Good,” He said, barely a whisper. His hands released Mathias’s shoulders, and even though he couldn’t see what he was doing Mathias had a pretty good idea that he was groping around on the sheets for one of his ropes. “Put your arms behind your back for me? Hold onto your elbows.”

Brows creasing in concentration, Mathias maintained the rigid posture Flynn had pulled him into and shifted his arms behind him. He grasped his elbows on his opposite arms easily, forming a parallel with his forearms that notched perfectly against the small of his back.

Flynn pulled the folded end of the rope between his forearms and his back, and every fiber in Mathias’s body was focusing on mapping what he was doing out of his line of sight. He could feel Flynn tucking the rope around his forearms three times, then knotting it with a sturdy and no doubt complicated knot. The realization that he could no longer bring his arms forwards to defend himself struck him, and tied an altogether different kind of knot in his guts. Flynn must have felt him tense, because he hesitated.

“Alright love?”

Mathias took a moment to think about it, gauging how taut the rope was on his arms, the ache in his shoulders that was beginning to burn from the effort of sitting bolt upright. He missed the support of his curiass.

“I’m fine,” He assured him eventually, even though his voice cracked as he said it. He _was_ fine, really. They were safe in the apartment, and Flynn was there, and there was a dagger on the bedside if he needed to use it. His blood was rushing in his ears, and his mouth was wet with nerves, but in a way the anxiety felt somewhat exhilarating. He wondered if Flynn would wait until he was fully tied, before he started the role-play thing.

Flynn made a satisfied noise, and the mattress underneath them shifted as he kneeled up to loop the loose half of the rope across Mathias’ chest. He pulled the end right around him, fed it through the rope already at the back, then doubled back over Mathias’ chest once more. The bindings ran parallel to his collarbones, holding his shoulders back into the open position Flynn had pulled him into earlier. As Flynn hooked the end through the tie on his wrists, Mathias tried to relax and drop out of the posture.

Naturally, he met resistance. The rope was securing him, holding him in place, and it was strange but the pull on his chest made his heart flutter pleasantly against his ribcage. Flynn was spending a painstaking amount of time tying complicated, tidy knots, as though he was concerned with what the end result looked like. The rope against his flesh was surprisingly soft. As Flynn pulled the last knot taught, the whisper of the weave sliding over itself sent little tingles bursting over the back of his neck and skull.

“You have goosebumps,” Flynn observed.

“I’m cold.”

It was a weak lie, made even weaker when Flynn shuffled around him on the bed. He could clearly see that Mathias’ nipples were rigid pinpricks on his chest, and his cock was stiffening fast against the pull of his undergarments.

“Sure you are, love.”

Flynn lifted the loop of rope hanging around his shoulders like a bulky necklace, and began to unravel it. He folded it in half, as he had the first, but he did so absent-mindedly this time around. He seemed far too occupied staring at Mathias’s naked torso, and mapping it as though he had never seen him shirtless before right now. Mathias was conscious of the fact that if Flynn wanted, he could touch him, curl his fingers around the burgeoning erection between his legs, and Mathias couldn’t push him away even if he wanted.

“Are you comfortable?” Flynn asked. “Not too loose or tight?”

Mathias was not comfortable, but he wasn’t uncomfortable either. He felt like he was both and neither all at once, perched precariously on the cusp of agony and ease. The muscles in the middle of his back were starting to throb with the strain, but the weight of the rope pulling over his chest was… unpredictably lovely. The two sensations mingled together, addling his brain, and sending strange signals to his loins. When Flynn leaned in, pressing a palm to his chest, Mathias felt his whole essence twist in delight.

“I’m good.” He said, eyes flickering closed as Flynn’s fingers skated over his chest towards his navel. “It’s not too loose.”

“Not too tight?”

“Could be tighter.”

Flynn snorted, a small and charming sound that made Mathias’s heart do a somersault in his chest.

“Of course.” The hand ghosting his stomach disappeared, “Lie down for me, and bend up one of your legs.”

Fortunately lying down wasn’t too difficult. Flynn pushed him back gently, Mathias let himself fall against the pillows, and found that the thick knot that secured his arms at his back fit easily against the contours of his anatomy. It was more comfortable to lie on than he would have expected. Flynn helped him to arrange his legs, pressing the right leg straight and bending his left one up so his foot lay flat against the mattress. He looped the rope around Mathias’ left ankle and pulled it deliciously taught, before casting the remainder of the rope around his upper thigh to bind his ankle against it. It was another unconventional stretch, whittling him further into powerlessness, and it felt _wonderful_.

Flynn continued onwards, winding the rope around Mathias’ bent leg several times. The pressure against Mathias’ muscles built exquisitely as he did so.

“Tight enough?” he asked. Mathias shook his head.

“Tighter,”

Flynn knew the drill about that, by now.

He tightened the rope, and the squeeze of it digging into Mathias’s meat was delicious. It reminded him of how it felt to wear his uniform – reassuring, tight, and controlled, but felt lewd under the gentle ministrations of hands that knew him so well. Coupled with the sense of powerless that came from not having his hands available, Mathias felt free to trust him totally. Deeper and harder than he ever had before. He felt like he was freefalling, holding blind faith that everything would be okay if he let go entirely, and he hardly even noticed as Flynn worked to secure the new rope on his leg with a series of painstakingly arranged ties.

Flynn’s concentration made him look beautiful. Mathias had never spent so much conscious time just watching him, drinking in his freckles, and his lashes, and the shallow creases around the corners of his lips, but _god_ he was a sight to behold and the thought that he was Mathias’, that somehow the cold and empty universe had delivered Flynn to _him_ , made him feel more humble than he had ever before. The tactile sensation of rope whispering against rope was the only thing that disturbed the silence. The moment was intimate, and seemed to go on forever, particularly when Flynn looked up from his work and met his eyes. 

This had to be some kind of magical craft that Mathias didn’t know of. The enchantments of Tidesages, maybe? Natural magic from some unknown locale far away? When Flynn finished securing the leg, Mathias felt like he had been dazed, and he didn’t even breathe a word as Flynn leaned in against the leg in question and walked his hand over the bumps and contours of the rope twisting over his naked thighs.

“Can I touch you?” he asked gently.

Mathias nodded. Flynn’s tender hand caressed the plane of his inner thigh, letting his knuckles brush against the tented front of his underwear, and he leaned in to lay soft kisses against the inside of his leg. The flesh beneath the rope was flushed, more sensitive than Mathias would have thought, and the scratch of his beard was soft and deeply erotic - a ticklish index of Flynn’s journey down the valley of his body. Mathias felt his cock twitch, and Flynn must have noticed the movement too when it nudged against his cheek.

He didn’t say anything cheeky about it, though. Most unusual. Mathias appreciated his silence – it was embarrassing enough how turned on he was by this. How feverish his body felt. How had Flynn struck upon something so profoundly sensuous to him, before he even recognized it himself? Flynn’s fingers curled under his waistband, pulling it down and letting his cock slip free. The touch of his hand was warm and gentle, and Mathias let himself moan openly when Flynn pulled the head of his length into his mouth.

_Fuck._

The ropes strained over his muscles as he tensed beneath them, the radiating heat from between his legs curling along his nerves and pooling under the furrows of the bindings. Flynn’s tongue was slow and gentle, lapping up his precum with the magical finesse that made Mathias wonder what he had done, to deserve a man as wonderful as this. A hand shifted between his legs, stroking tenderly over the bridge between his balls and his entrance. The touch broke him out in hot shivers, and he wriggled uselessly against the mattress. The only part of his body he had left was his right leg – he wished he could pull Flynn’s face harder onto his cock with it. Use it to cradle the back of his head while he pushed his hips up into his face.

_“Flynn,”_

It was half plea, half exaltation. Flynn made a soft sound around his erection, and sunk lower so the head of Mathias’s cock pressed against the roof of his mouth. Flynn had always been amazing at this, he knew tricks so good that they should have been illegal. Mathias had never asked where he had learned them, and he didn’t care – just like in the case of his mizzenmast ex, all of those skills were for him, now. Mathias was in awe of him. In awe of the way he always seemed to know exactly what Mathias needed most. He was so sweet to him. So tender. And he knew all the secret workings of Mathias’s body even better than anyone.

And the pleasure built. Flynn’s mouth worked his length, the ropes around his chest and thigh began to feel even more delicious as they dug into him. His heart was racing, and the ties compressed him hard into the confides of his flesh. All the burden of impending orgasm could not be expelled through frantic shudders or grasping hands - The tremendousness of it, the size and depth, morphed and shifted under his skin until it began channeling inwards, into a hot coil in his core. Mathias hadn’t thought his body capable of containing so much feeling. The flood of it compounded the pressure, made the weight of the rope feel even more pronounced, and when Flynn swallowed him down his throat in a single easy movement, and his fingertips moved lower to slip just the tip inside him, he imploded.

His release was deep, coming from further in his pelvis than he had ever felt before, and it was the kind of shivering, toe curling climax that fizzled through every one of his extremities. The tension on his muscles made the contractions feel never ending, like an echo chamber of tightness, and it was good. So good. Mathias thought he might have even screamed with it. He felt his eyes tip back, hips lifting off the bed, and Flynn swallowed hungrily around his length like he didn’t want to lose even a single drop of his load. As the crest of climax left him, Mathias sagged against the bed, and let himself succumb to the sense that he was floating. The feeling was bliss. He could have lain there forever, thinking nothing, and feeling secured. Flynn pulled back from his softening cock, and Mathias felt him skate his fingers over the rope on his leg in question.

 _No,_ He thought with all his might, unable in his strange, slanted state to find his voice again. _Please don’t._

Flynn understood what he wanted. Wordlessly, he shifted his weight. The mattress creaked under him as he crawled up the bed to lie against the pillow, resting so that he and Mathias could lie side by side. Flynn pressed his whole body against him, his obvious erection digging into Mathias’s hip, and resting his head on Mathias’s chest he let his fingers wander to the rope across his collarbones.

His weight was reassuring. Warm. 

Flynn’s fingers curled around the rope.

Mathias drifted.


End file.
